Rogue
by Lance Cortex
Summary: Can a dangerous outlaw overcome his past and his own feelings in order to protect the only two people he cares about? (FINISHED!)
1. The Bounty

_You know the drill by now. Bethesda Softworks has all legal rights to names, locations, etc. appearing in this story that also appear in the game Morrowind. Please don't try to steal, edit, or plagiarize this story in any way......_

Chapter 1:

I try not to look at my situation as one of a fugitive. I may be an outcast from society, but that doesn't mean I should be restricted to fleeing and hiding for my entire life. No, that isn't what I'm doing. I prefer to think of myself as a free-range wanderer, an explorer if you will. Yeah, that's more like it. It has a much better ring to it than 'outlaw'. And when you really think about it, I guess you could say that I'm one of the few people in the entire world that is truly free. No responsibilities, no obligations, nothing. Just me and the open sky.

At least, that's what I tell myself to make my entire situation seem bearable. I mean, let's face the facts: I have really found myself caught between a rock and a hard place here. I doubt if I'll ever get out of this maddening state of loneliness. What's even worse is the fact that I have no one to blame for my current misfortune but myself.

But enough with the depressing talk. I shouldn't have to worry about that kind of stuff at a time like this. With spring well under way, the days are beginning to look just a bit less foreboding and a little more inviting, if such a thing can be possible for such an unfriendly place. A change in scenery would certainly be welcome, and a transition of seasons might be just the thing to invoke such a change.

Ever since I came to Tamriel, I have encountered the same landscape over and over again: tall mountains, chilling rock formations, scraggly trees, and scattered patches of dead grass. It's as if the land itself is withering. I remember asking one of the locals if they were going through some kind of drought, but he calmly informed me that the land had always looked this way. Gods, that was such a long time ago.

Even now, as I push through the dense underbrush in my mismatched armor and battered equipment, I wonder just how long ago it had been since I had last been able to walk among civilized people without being chased or attacked. It has been such a long time, it barely remains in my memory any longer. I wonder how long it will be before those memories leave my head altogether. Living out in the wilderness for countless days on end has done something to my psyche. I feel as though this new way of life is slowly consuming my mind, turning me into the role of the dangerous outlaw that I have unwillingly assumed. I must remain focused; transforming into the person that everyone presumes I am will only make it easier for them to kill me and collect the sizeable bounty on my head. The last time I checked, my bounty stood at 300,000 septims, but since I've killed a few people since then, I'm sure it's gone up a bit.

I stop to rest only when absolutely necessary. I know that, even now, there are bandits and farmers alike pursuing me, following my footsteps, trying to get even the slightest advantage over me so they can make their move. I am living like a hunted animal. I suppose there's no use denying the credibility of that analogy. After all, I _have_ been reduced to nothing more than a prize that must be caught and killed. An unsettling thought, but I daresay it is the truth.

A rustling in the bushes to my left immediately catches my attention. I stop moving and crouch down low, straining my ears to pick up on the slightest sound. I have gone through such a situation so many times, it has virtually become second nature to me. I have since lost track of the number of would-be hunters I have slain.

Slowly, cautiously, I draw my rusted and battered spear and hold it loosely in my right hand while I crawl silently towards the direction of the noise. Although I don't necessarily enjoy fighting, I realize that it is a necessary evil. If I don't fight, I will surely be killed. My crimes are so expansive that the bounty on my head is only good if I am dead. That is why my situation is so hopeless; the only two choices I have are kill or be killed.

After several tense minutes of sneaking through the underbrush, I hide behind a thick patch of scathepaw and peer through a gap in the leaves. I let out a sigh of relief at the sight: it is only a pair of travelers who have set up camp in a small clearing. They are sitting around a small campfire, sharing a pot of stew and talking among themselves. It seems they haven't yet noticed my presence. Just as I am about to take my leave, I remind myself that they may still be dangerous. Too often have I encountered weary wanderers who simply could not pass up the chance to kill the notorious outlaw. The price on my head is enough to turn even the most mild-mannered people into desperate berserkers. I must be cautious in my departure.

As I back away from the pair, I move as slowly as possible to prevent my armor from making any noise. Clanking armor would surely capture the attention of the camping pair, and I am simply too tired to fight right now. Unfortunately, the goddess of Fate has decided that I should not make my escape so easily, and she endeavors to thwart my movement by planting thorny chokeweed all around me.

I unwittingly push aside a patch of the loathsome plant only to have the sharp thorns slice through the exposed skin of my hand. I yelp in pain and bite my lip to prevent any more noise from escaping my mouth, but it is too late. A gruff voice shouts from behind me, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

I clutch my lacerated right hand in my left in an effort to stop the bleeding, but it is futile. I need to tie the wound off with a cloth, and I need to do so immediately. I glance behind me to see if the travelers know where I am. Much to my dismay, I see that one of them has a bow and arrow nocked and pointed in my general direction. Shit. It doesn't look like I'll be able to escape now. I should just play it safe and pretend to be a weary traveler like them. With luck, they won't recognize me; and if they do, I'll just have to fight my way out.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, I slowly raise my hands into the air until I see that both of the uncertain travelers have noticed them. Then, I stand up in the same slow fashion and walk to within a non-threatening distance of them. As I approach, I get a better look at the pair. They appear to be two dunmer, one male and one female. The female has the bow and arrow pointed steadily at my heart, while the male is holding a wicked-looking mace loosely in one hand. They are both clothed in the simple garb of townsfolk, but I notice that the female has a crest of a sorceress embedded on the sleeve of her robe. I also notice a well-crafted shield leaning against a knapsack near the fire; it has an elaborate coat of arms on it announcing that it belongs to a great warrior. I should definitely be wary of these two.

When I determine that I have moved close enough, I say in as humble a tone as I can muster, "Here now, what's this all about? There's no need to treat a simple traveler like a criminal, now is there?"

The male looks me up and down, taking in the unusual sight of my mismatched armor. Perhaps he will decide that someone with such shameful equipment cannot possibly be dangerous. At least, that is what I'm hoping he will decide.

After a few uncertain moments, he asks, "Do you mind telling me why you were sneaking around back there?"

"Well, what other alternative did I have? I didn't know if you were friendly or hostile, and I certainly didn't want to announce my presence if you were the latter," I explain with my hands still held above my head. By now, the blood dripping from the wound on my hand is beginning to run down my arm. I ignore it and continue, "Come to think of it, I still don't know which you are. So tell me: what are your intentions now that you have caught me?"

"Well," the male eyes me wearily, "To tell you the truth, I haven't quite decided yet. Take off your helmet and let's get a good look at your face."

I silently curse my luck. I take great care to only wear helmets that cover up my face. These two might not recognize me yet, but if they see my face, they would surely recognize me and try to kill me. These two seem to be seasoned fighters, and I certainly don't want to kill such experienced warriors. That would be such a waste.

Luckily, I don't have to worry about that possibility at the moment, for the female with the bow and arrow speaks up, "Mero, show a little compassion. Just look at the man's arm. Surely such a wound is causing him a great deal of pain. Let's treat it first and ask questions later."

The male dunmer known as Mero shoots an annoyed glance at his companion, but the look quickly subsides. He folds his arms across his chest and looks at me once more. With a sniff of resignation, he says, "All right, fine. Come over here and sit by the fire, stranger. Let's get that cut bandaged up." I am only too happy to comply.

With the three of us gathered around the fire, the female dunmer puts away her bow while Mero digs some gauze and a small vial from his pack. I settle down on the coarse sand and present my injured right hand for the man to work on. As I do so, the female rests her hands on her lap and asks, "And what might your name be, stranger?"

"Corrin Savage," I lie. I had been using this alias for a while now, and I see no reason to switch to a new one quite yet.

When she sees that I do not intend to volunteer any more information, the female continues, "Well, my name is Fiana Bierrou, and this is Mero Silvis," she motions to her companion.

I prepare to respond, but a sharp stinging in my hand causes me to forget my words. I draw my hand away from Mero before he gets the chance to splash some more of the burning liquid in my wound.

"Calm down now, friend," Mero instructs as he reaches for my hand, "This medicine will kill any bacteria in the cut and help it to heal faster. Trust me; a moment or two of pain is well worth the price of avoiding infection."

I am skeptical, but my better judgment tells me that I can trust these two for the time being. I present my hand again and try my best to ignore the burning that the strange liquid causes.

"Tell me, stranger," Fiana says, "From what parts do you hail?"

"Well, I am originally from Zabat country to the north, but I haven't been there in many seasons. I recall leaving there with my mother when I was very young and coming here to Tamriel. I don't really have a place to call home now; I just wander the land living under the sky and the stars. This whole country is my home," I recite my well-thought-out story for perhaps the hundredth time. None of it is true, of course, but I see no reason to share my true background with these two quite yet.

"I see. That certainly sounds exciting," Fiana responds, completely convinced that I am telling the truth, "By the way, are you hungry, sir? We have plenty of stew."

I am momentarily uncertain. I glance to Mero, but he seems intent on tying a long length of gauze around my hand. He shows no sign that he has heard his partner's offer. I answer politely, "Yes, please. I appreciate your generosity."

"Think nothing of it," Fiana says good-naturedly as she spoons some of the thick stew into a clay bowl and hands it to me, "As it turns out, Mero and I are in a state of transition as well. Isn't that right?" she turns to her partner.

Mero nods once as he begins to put the gauze and medicine back into his knapsack, "Aye, that's correct. We're on our way to Corona to request an audience with the duke."

At first, I am certain that I have not heard him correctly. It just so happens that I am on my way to Corona as well, although I am going there for a completely different reason. Before I can stop myself, my mouth opens and the words come gushing out unabated, "Well, what a coincidence. I'm heading there as well. Why don't we travel together?"

Mero seems momentarily shocked. He turns to his partner, who I notice has broken into a wide grin. Fiana says with a touch of excitement in her voice, "Of course. The more the merrier. We would be happy to have you along. Isn't that right, Mero?"

"Sure, sure," Mero says a bit uncertainly, "Traveling through these parts can be dangerous sometimes. An extra warrior will be helpful if we run into trouble, although we will definitely have to do something about the shameful condition of your armor."

I can't help but chuckle at his comment, "I know it's nothing pretty to look at, but it gets the job done. I just sort of take what I need from bandits I run into and leave my broken and damaged equipment behind." This time I am telling the truth. I used to own a fine suit of armor worthy of the best knights, but after I had that damned bounty put on my head, I was not able to enter any towns to get it repaired. Thus, portions of my armor slowly rusted and broke over time, and I was forced to replace piece by piece as it became too battered to be of any use. After countless seasons of such inconsistent replacement, I am left with the patchwork that I wear now.

"Well, I happen to be friends with the smith in Corona. I'm sure I can help you get a discount on some of his wares," Mero offers, and I can see that he is beginning to warm up to my presence. This is good. It has been a long time since I last had people trust me.

"So, if you don't mind me asking," I begin cautiously, "What business do you have with the duke of Corona?"

"I'm glad you asked," Fiana says excitedly, "You see, I have been developing a vaccine for the Crass Sickness for quite a while now, and I recently came across a discovery during my experimentations," she reaches into her own knapsack and digs out a wad of gauze, which she slowly unwraps with cautious movements. After several moments of this, she pulls a small vial of greenish liquid out of the gauze and holds it out for me to see, "This medicine I hold in my hands has the power to remove rust and actually strengthen certain types of metal," she says reverently, "I discovered this quite by accident. You see, I was trying to find some sort of substance that would dissolve the excess mucus that develops along the capillaries as a result of the Crass Sickness, so I tried adding some zan root to my original potion. Well, what I didn't know was that since zan root is such a harsh acid when it is refined and purified, adding it to any other substance would surely cause a drastic drop in pH. And when such a drop occurs fast enough, the resulting energy released is powerful enough to dissolve many different kinds of substances. Well, upon making this discovery, I decided that if I could cause the drop in pH to occur fast enough, I may be able to get even more energy released. Therefore, I tried adding some pilmer hide, since everyone knows that the pilmer secretes a sort of oil from its skin that repels water. This pilmer oil is also incredibly sensitive to changes in composition when it comes into contact with substances that are very acidic, such as the potion I had devised. Well, when I added the pilmer hide, the chemical reaction that resulted was so violent that --"

"Fiana, please, you're getting carried away again," Mero interrupts gently.

"Oh, yes, my apologies," the dark elf says, flustered, "Anyway, I tested the properties of this liquid, and I found out that it can restore older metals to their original strength and luster. Think of it! If this substance can be produced in mass quantities, we will no longer have to rely on blacksmiths to repair our metals. Entire kingdoms will be able to keep the equipment of their armies in tip-top shape for generations on end. This invention may very well change the way we live our lives," Fiana finishes with an excitement not unlike that of a child.

"And since the duke of Corona has earned a reputation for being a fair and understanding man, we felt that he would be the best person to see regarding this discovery," Mero adds.

"I see," I respond, still trying to decided what was important and what was not in Fiana's impassioned explanation. Feeling a bit slow-minded, I ask, "So, am I correct in assuming that you are an alchemist?"

Fiana nods, "Yes, that is correct. Alchemy is my second-best skill, after magic, of course."

"Ah, I thought I recognized the crest on your sleeve," I point out, "I understand that both alchemy and sorcery require a great deal of patience and skill. They certainly don't sound like my kind of hobby."

Fiana laughs, and I can't help but find the sound pleasant, "Yes, it's true that they both require a lot of time to perfect, but I just can't see myself doing anything else."

I nod and turn to Mero, "And what about you, friend? What is your trade?"

"I am a scout," Mero responds lazily, "And part of my job is to escort travelers like Miss Fiana through dangerous country."

Ah, so that is the relationship between these two. I press on, "A scout, eh? Now that job sounds like something more suited for my tastes. You get to live in the outdoors, learn the lore and culture of many different areas, and you can meet all kinds of people. Sounds like fun."

"Aye, that it is," Mero agrees, "Although there are a few customers like Miss Fiana who insist on traveling between towns every few days. I've escorted her to so many parts of this country that folks are beginning to think of us as permanent traveling companions."

"Why, you say that like it's a bad thing," Fiana teases, "I can't help it if I come up with so many new substances in the course of my alchemic tinkering. Do you expect me to keep these discoveries to myself?"

"No, no, of course not," Mero says, "I just wonder about your health, that's all. You spend so much time with your experiments, I know you have been missing out on meals and sleep on more than one occasion. You tend to ignore things like that when you start working on a new project."

"Well, your concern is appreciated," Fiana says humbly, "But I can assure you that I take care of myself just fine. And sometimes, my work can be more important than my health."

"So you say," Mero answers, although he does not sound at all convinced, "Just don't be surprised if your work ends up being the death of you."

"Excuse me, I hate to interrupt," I interject, "but it is beginning to get late. Perhaps it would be best if we get some sleep now. The mountains that stand between us and Corona will not be easy to pass, and we will need all of our energy to get through them."

"Aye, you have a point there," Mero says knowingly. He goes to unpack a blanket from his pack, but looks at me as a thought enters his mind, "Do you have a bedroll, Corrin? If not, you can use mine."

"Oh, no, thank you for the offer, but I'm fine on my own," I answer, "I'm perfectly comfortable sleeping on the ground, thank you."

"Very well," Mero responds with a shrug.

It takes several minutes for me to take off all of my armor and put it in a neat pile. Much to my dismay, I realize that in order to keep my identity hidden, I will have to keep my helmet on for the entire time that I am in the company of these two travelers, even as I sleep. The thought makes my heart sink. What have I gotten myself into?

When I have finally settled down to sleep, I can't help but notice how uncomfort- able my helmet really is. Wearing it as I lie down leaves my neck bent at a painful angle, and laying my head on my arm does little to mollify my discomfort. For a moment, I consider taking it off, but I realize that if either of them happens to awaken before me and see my face, then I would be at their mercy. No, I will just have to endure this pain for the time being. It is better than waking up dead, I suppose.


	2. Internal Conflict

Chapter 2:

The next morning, we awaken before dawn and prepare to embark on our journey westward to the city of Corona. My head and neck ache tremendously, but it is actually not as bad as I had thought it would be. As we hike across the harsh landscape, Fiana asks me why I did not take my helmet off to sleep.

"I was in a terrible house fire when I was just a child," I answer, making up the story as I go along (and doing a fine job of it, if I do say so myself), "It nearly claimed my life, but I barely managed to make it out. Over time, the burns on my body healed, but my face was left horribly disfigured. I prefer not to show my face to anyone."

"Oh, I see," Fiana answers, and I see genuine sympathy on her soft features, "Forgive my indiscretion, friend. I didn't mean to bring up such a painful subject."

"No, it's no problem," I say, feeling guilty for having to lie to her. I am glad she cannot see the guilt etched on my face, "Really, it's no big deal. You didn't know; now you do. Don't worry about it."

We continue on in relative peace. Occasionally, we encounter some of the beasts that tend to roam this land and cause strife for weary travelers. Large two-legged reptilian creatures with uncanny agility are especially abundant, but the three of us manage to repel any trouble that comes our way. Mero tells me that they are called kagouti, and they are perhaps the most abundant creature in the mountains. They tend to travel alone, but they have been known to group together during mating season (which he tells me has just passed, thank the gods). I discover that these creatures are aggressive but not very smart; twice we have been attacked by kagouti that were so disfigured from fighting other beasts that they are barely able to strike out at us. I feel a certain level of sympathy for these mangled beasts, even though they clearly act on instinct alone.

We also encounter some more familiar creatures that I have run into before: wild rats, cliff racers, bell rays, zebblogs, and even an ogrim or two. Most of these creatures are smart enough to flee when they see us, but an especially brazen beast will occasionally try to ambush us. This is an unfriendly land, and I am glad that I am going through it with companions for a change. Fighting all of these dangerous beasts by myself was becoming very taxing on my body and my mind.

Throughout the day, I am also given the opportunity to watch my partners in action. Fiana's skill with a bow and arrow is superb, and the occasional spell she conjures shows a great deal of talent in the art of magic. Likewise, Mero shows me that he is also a formidable fighter. When he swings his mace, it appears to be a mere blur. I have spent a lot of time around fighters to see that this man certainly knows what he is doing.

My earlier feelings of detached indifference are beginning to fade. Against my better judgment, I am beginning to grow fond of these two. I know that relationships are dangerous for someone like me, but I just cannot help but feel a certain undeniable connection between myself and these two. Perhaps it is just because I have spent so much time on my own that I have grown especially receptive to a little company; perhaps it is because it is against my nature to be by myself for too long; or maybe it is simply because I share so much in common with these two. Whatever the reason may be, I am beginning to grow attached to Fiana and Mero, even though I know damn well that doing so will only bring grief and misfortune to all of us. As long as this bounty on my head remains in place, I will never be able to have people around me without putting them in danger. And since the last thing I want is to have someone I care about put in danger on my behalf, it has always been better for me to simply remain alone. That is how I have lived for years; I see no reason to change that way of life.

Why, then, am I going against this creed now?

For the first time in recent memory, I have decided to ignore my instincts, knowing full well that I will regret this decision sometime in the near future. After much deliberation, I have decided that the only rational explanation for this breach in protocol is my inherent weakness when it comes to dealing with people. I have always had friends and people I cared about; to suddenly have all of it taken away from me came as an incredibly great shock to my way of life. I suppose it is a weakness that may never go away; as long as I am alive, I will never get used to an existence spent alone. That is why I so desperately crave companionship; that is why I have decided to open up and become friends with Fiana and Mero.

We continue to travel together for several more days. After a while, I notice that they are opening up to me as well. Fiana seems to trust me exclusively, and although Mero is a bit more shrewd when dealing with these kinds of situations, I believe he is beginning to trust me as well. I realize that Mero is the kind of man that has a difficult time trusting others; he seems to be more of a loner who prefers his own company. In a way, I guess you could say he is the kind of guy that I am trying to avoid becoming. Surprisingly, this realization doesn't make me like him any less. In a way, I begin to admire him for being able to tolerate a lifestyle that I abhor.

Fiana, on the other hand, seems much more willing to open up and share her feelings. Overall, I find her to be quite likeable. She is energetic, optimistic, and incredibly intense whenever she speaks of something she cares about, like alchemy or magic. I am also beginning to feel the slight tug at my heart which suggests that my feelings for her may be a bit more than companionable, but I banish those thoughts from my mind almost immediately. I am already taking enough of a risk by being friends with her; I have to draw the line somewhere.

Although it can sometimes be difficult for me to do so, I endeavor to hide my feelings of conflict from the pair. It is at times like these that I am especially glad that I am wearing this restrictive helmet. The story I used about being disfigured in a house fire seems to be quite effective in staving off any more inquiries about my face; I must remember to use that excuse again in the future.

As time passes and our journey through the mountains becomes more and more difficult, I find the bonds between us begin to strengthen. It is amazing how quickly one learns to trust others when put in such a grueling situation. By now, I know that even after our exodus is complete, my two companions will most likely remember my company for a long time to come. I can just imagine them camping out under the stars around a strong campfire, sharing a bowl of stew and talking of old times. Perhaps they will speak of me and the time we spent together crossing the hazardous landscape on our way to reach Corona. I wonder what they will say about me.

It was a mistake to come with them.


	3. Rogue

Chapter 3:

After many days of strenuous hiking, we have finally crossed the wind-swept mountain range that separates Corona from the lands to the east. We are all somewhat sore from our relentless movement through the harsh peaks, and I think I speak for my companions when I say that we are all glad that that leg of the journey is finally over. As the sun begins to reach its zenith on what I believe is the twenty-second day since we met, we stop in a small copse of trees to rest our weary feet.

Fiana digs some dried fruit from her pack while Mero goes to skin a rabbit he caught earlier in the morning. I help to set up the fire pit, although I am not feeling at all hungry at the moment. When Mero is ready to begin cooking the rabbit, I ask, "Does anyone else hear the sound of running water?"

Fiana nods and says, "Yes, I hear it too. It's very faint, but it sounds like it's coming from the south. A stream, maybe?"

"Most likely," I comment. It has been a long time since we last encountered running water. A bath sounds extremely tantalizing; after countless days of collecting grime and dirt in the harsh mountains, I am feeling positively filthy. I collect our near- empty water skins and say to my companions, "I'm going to go see if I can't find out where that stream is. I'll be back soon, so don't eat all the rabbit without me."

Mero smiles and says, "Well, shucks. I don't know if I can keep a promise like that. I feel hungry enough to eat the whole thing right now, bones and all. Just don't take too long, okay?"

Fiana giggles and turns to me, "Don't worry, Corrin. I'll save some for you."

"Okay, thanks. I won't be long," I say over my shoulder as I depart.

As I travel towards the distant sound of running water, I can't help but notice how inviting the scenery looks in comparison to what I experienced on the other side of the mountains. Here, I see that there is actually grass in some places and even a few trees with leaves on them. I encounter animals that are not savage creatures intent on killing and eating me. Overall, I find that this change in scenery comes as a tremendous relief. Perhaps I shall stay on this side of the mountains when my journey to Corona is complete.

After a short hike through the unfamiliar yet inviting landscape, I come across a small stream gurgling through the trees. In it, I spot small fish darting back and forth between the rocks. The speed of the water is steady and calm, and I surmise that it will probably come up to my waist at its deepest spot.

I take one last look around me to make sure that I am alone. Satisfied, I remove all my armor piece by piece and carry it to the shallows. I hunt out a smooth river stone and use it to scrub the grime from my wide assortment of protective gear. I realize that doing so seems a bit futile since most of it is so badly damaged that it will need to be replaced soon, but I continue with my washing nonetheless. Given the choice, I would rather not have to live in armor that constantly smells of sweat and dirt.

When it comes time to wash my helmet, I remove it reverently and take a deep breath of the fresh air. I blink a few times to adjust my eyes to the brightness of the afternoon sun. Being able to look out upon the world through my own eyes is a grand feeling, indeed. It has been many days since I last took this cursed helmet off, and the smell of sweat was beginning to become stifling. I spend an extra few minutes cleaning the inside of this item.

I lay my armor out on a wide rock and leave it there to dry in the sunlight trickling through the forest canopy above. Then, I strip out of my clothes and get to work cleaning them as well. After a few moments of useless scrubbing, I throw the rock back in the water in frustration. I need some sload soap if I am to get my clothes clean; since I have none, I will just have to let them soak in the water for a while and hope that it will be enough to wash away some of the dirt.

For the first time in a long while, I simply relax and enjoy myself as I swim through the calm waters. I run my hands through my hair to loosen up the caked-on grime and sweat that has developed from the result of wearing a helmet nonstop for the past twenty-two days. I imagine my face must be incredibly pale from lack of sunlight, but since I have no mirror and my armor is long past the point of showing my reflection, I can only speculate as to the extent of my looks.

After what feels like only a few moments but was surely much longer, I decide that I have spent enough time enjoying my bath and begin to wade back to the shore. I approach the area where I submerged my clothes and fish them out. After a short look around, I find another large rock and lay my clothing out on it to dry in the sun. When I am finished, I stand up and turn to have a look at my armor. As I do so, some sort of movement catches my eye. I turn to see what it is, and stop dead in my tracks.

Fiana stands at the edge of the shore, her hand to her mouth and a look of embarrassment on her face. Then, her expression turns from shyness to horror. I am not wearing my helmet, I realize with a jolt. She sees my face. She knows who I am. I curse my luck.

For what seems like an eternity, the two of us remain frozen solid. I can't move. My muscles feel as though they are paralyzed. Why did she come here? Why did she follow me? Fiana, why did you have to find out the truth? Do you realize what this means? Do you know what I have to do to you now?

"I. . . . . Corrin, but I thought. . . . ." Fiana sputters. Her face is a mix of terror, confusion, and pain; none of these emotions belong on a face as gentle as hers. She tries to continue, "I. . . . . I just came to. . . . . I didn't know. . . . . I. . . . . I'm so sorry," she says hurriedly and turns to run off.

At this point, my shattered emotions give way to practiced instinct. I sprint towards my equipment, scoop up my spear, and run after her. All thoughts are banished from my mind but one: She knows who I am. Now she must die.

Fiana desperately scrambles through the underbrush, but her robe keeps getting caught on vines and bushes, slowing her progress. I can see that she has tears streaming down her face, but none of that matters. None of it matters.

After a short chase, I catch up to the fleeing dark elf and tackle her. She falls to the ground, and I grab the neck of her robe and slam her against a nearby tree. She cries out in pain, but her cry is cut short as I push the point of my spear up against the soft flesh of her throat. She stares at my face with panic and desperation in her eyes. My hand trembles as I hold the spear in place. I wish I didn't have to do this.

"Corrin, please. . . . ." she pleads.

"Don't call me that!" I shout with an anger that I didn't even know I felt, "You know damn well that's not my real name. You know who I really am."

"Sweet Azura. This can't be happening. Please tell me none of this is real. Please tell me you aren't really who I think you are," Fiana begs incoherently.

"I am," I say coldly, "300,000 septim bounty and all. I'm an outlaw. My face is on wanted posters all over the continent."

"But why?! Why are you doing this?!" she yells unexpectedly.

"Because I have no choice!" I respond violently, my heart beginning to pound, "Now that you know who I am, I can't let you live. You and Mero will try to kill me and collect on that bounty; I know you will."

"No! No we won't! We would never do that to a friend," she insists.

"Yes you will! You say you won't, but I know you will. They all do," I say bitterly, "I've come across all kinds of people, and they all do the same thing. They all turn their backs on me and try to collect on that bounty. It's happened to me over and over and over again, and I'm just sick of it! Complete strangers see me and try to kill me with their bare hands. I've had farmers chase me down with their pitchforks. I've had guards hunt me for days at a time through dense forests just so they can get the slightest chance to come within striking distance of me. I've had friends, people I thought I could trust with my life, suddenly try to slip a knife in my back. Everyone I ever knew has turned on me! This whole damn continent is out to get me, and I just can't stand it any more!" I yell and throw the spear away. It plunges into the bark of a nearby tree and remains there, firmly embedded. I turn from Fiana angrily as hot tears begin to streak down my face. Despite my best efforts, my sadness engulfs me and I sit weeping in the middle of the forest like a child. I have suppressed my feelings of loneliness for as long as I can remember, but they have finally overflowed. The grief is just too much to bear.

A few moments pass, and I slowly feel the warmth of Fiana's outer robe closing down around my shoulders. She drapes the garment across my naked body and sits down next to me, trying to comfort me. My sadness begins to subside, and I feel myself calming down. She sings a soft lullaby in my ear, and I feel my sorrow evaporating. I banish all thoughts of the past from my mind and focus solely on the present. Fiana continues to sing, and I can't help but admire how beautiful her voice sounds.

When I am sure I have firm control of my emotions, I look over into Fiana's deep brown eyes and sigh heavily. I begin to speak, but she shushes me, "It's okay. You needn't cry any more. The spell of taming I just chanted should be enough to keep you calm for a few more minutes. Are you sure you're feeling okay, or should I try another spell?"

Oh, so I guess it wasn't a lullaby after all. Whatever. It doesn't matter, "Why do you try to placate me? I tried to kill you, and yet you insist on comforting me. Why?"

"Because you need to be comforted, and I am the only one close enough to do so," she says simply as she rests an arm across my shoulders.

"But you know who I am. You know I'm dangerous," I say stubbornly.

"I already told you: we're friends, you and I. It is against my nature to abandon friends, no matter who they may be. I'm sure Mero feels the same way," she explains patiently, "Now come on. Let's go back to the riverbank and get your clothes."

I follow her obediently with the robe wrapped around my body. I didn't notice before, but the air is becoming quite chilly.

When we reach the riverbank, I watch listlessly as she performs some sort of subtle fire spell to dry my clothes off. When she is finished, she turns away politely while I get dressed. As I do so, she says distractedly, "You know I don't like to pry into other peoples' pasts, and you know that if you don't want to answer, that's perfectly all right with me, but. . . . . I was wondering --"

"You want to know how I got this bounty, don't you?" I ask her, although I already know the answer. She nods sullenly and folds her arms across her chest. I sigh and walk over to where my armor is situated, "You can turn around now," I say, "I'm done getting dressed."

She turns from the river and sits down on a rounded river rock. I crouch down next to my armor and finger it lovingly as I begin to speak, "I remember a time, many seasons ago, when I used to be just a simple merchant. I was as normal as the guy you pass on the street, and that's all there was to it. I used to be normal," I smile ruefully at the thought, "But somewhere along the way, things went terribly wrong. Gods, did they ever go wrong.

"I used to travel all over Tamriel, just me and my goods. I would go from town to town, selling what I could and buying what I needed from other merchants. I was well- liked, popular, friendly. Occasionally I would meet up with someone in one of these towns and we would become good friends. There were people all over the continent who knew my name. I had friends. I had a family back in Selan country. I had everything I could ever hope for.

"Then, one night, as I was on the road, I was attacked by a group of bandits. There were six of them and only one of me, so I knew I didn't stand a chance. I fought as many of them as I could, knowing full well that I was probably going to die in the process. I didn't mind, though; I had had a pretty good life up until that point, and I knew I could leave with no regrets. But I was determined to go out fighting, you know? So I grabbed my spear and tried to take out as many as I could before they overwhelmed me. I managed to kill three of them on my own, and much to my surprise, the other three just up and ran away after that. I remember being incredibly glad that they did. I was absolutely exhausted from the fight, and I was wounded in multiple places. I doubt I would have survived if they had continued their attack for just a little bit longer.

"Well, what I didn't know was that they really weren't bandits at all; it was just a group of local kids who wanted to have a little fun with a lone merchant passing through. I found all this out when I made my way into town. When the townsfolk heard that I had killed three of their teenagers, they immediately called the guards. I argued with them; I told them that it was in self-defense; I told them that I had no choice, that they attacked me. They wouldn't listen, and when one of the guards came over to talk to me about it, I was desperate.

"I told him my story, but he just wouldn't listen to me. He told me that I faced a life sentence in jail for three counts of murder. The thought almost made me vomit. I couldn't spend the rest of my life in jail; that would be a fate worse than death. I pleaded with him, I begged him to hear me out, I even tried bribing him, but he wouldn't hear of it. I was a criminal now.

"I guess at that point I just kind of snapped. The possibility of spending the rest of my life in jail was just too much for me to bear. And somewhere along the way, I guess I realized that the only thing that stood between me and my freedom was this guard. So, I figured the only course of action to take was to kill this guard and run like hell. And as you know, attacking a guard is enough to earn one the guillotine. Killing a guard will earn one a great deal of torture. But I didn't think of any of that. I just had to get away. I had to escape. I had to live. That was the only thing that was important to me.

"So I killed him. I didn't think I would be able to do it, since the Imperial Guards are trained to kill dragons, supposedly. But somehow, I killed him and ran. I ran as far and as fast as I could, hoping to just leave the whole unfortunate incident behind me. Little did I know that it was just the beginning of my ordeal. By now, I had a price on my head and a death warrant on my name. I was a fugitive.

"Everywhere I went, there were people trying to capture me and turn me in. What choice did I have but to kill them? If I didn't kill them, they would have surely killed me. Over time, the bounty on my head just kept rising and rising as I kept killing people in self-defense. God, I wish I didn't have to. I hate the killing; I hate the dying; I hate it all. I don't want to kill any more, but I have no choice. God, if I want to keep on living, I just have no choice."

I hold my helmet in my hands, looking into the eyepieces and wondering about nothing in particular, "Now do you understand why I felt I had to kill you? I just couldn't face the possibility of being betrayed by someone I care about again."

Fiana has her hands folded in her lap, and she looks as if she is about to cry. I walk over to her and hand over her robe. She accepts it silently and stands up slowly. The dunmer looks into my eyes for a long time, and I can see that she feels genuinely concerned for my well-being. Without any warning, she throws her arms around me and hugs me tightly. I am somewhat caught off-guard, but I return the embrace.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you," she whispers in my ear, "I'm so sorry. I wish there was something I could do to help."

"There is," I say, although it pains me to do so, "You can go back to Mero and continue on your journey to Corona without me. As long as the two of you are with me, you are in danger. Even now, there are people chasing after me, hunting me, trying to kill me so they can collect on the bounty. I don't want you two to be caught up in the middle of it all. You may even be seen as accomplices and killed too. I can't let that happen. That's why I need to go on alone. I hope you understand."

"Yes, yes I do. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but I do understand," she says sadly. She pulls away from me and drapes her robe across her arm. She seems reluctant to leave, but then again, so am I.

Without another word, I turn and begin to gather my armor. There's no need for words now. I attach my mismatched armor piece by rusty piece, taking care to make sure the straps are tight. I don't hear Fiana leave, but after a while, I know she is gone. I sigh wistfully; although it pains my heart to do so, I know I have done the right thing. Mero and Fiana will be safe now. I don't need to worry about them.

When I am sure my armor is securely in place, I don my helmet and breathe the scent of metal in appreciation; no more rancid sweat to gag on. As I make my way towards the forest to retrieve my spear, a loud rustling in the bushes draws my attention once more. It sounds like a frightened animal of some sort. I make my way into the forest cautiously.

Without warning, Fiana rushes into view, her hair flying and her eyes wide and full of fear. When she spots me, she runs over to me with a pleading look in her eyes. Before I can protest her presence, she says breathlessly, "Please. . . . you have to help. . . . the camp is being attacked. . . . . by bandits. . . . . Mero is holding them off, but he can't fight them all. Please help us."

I only nod and run to where my spear is sticking out of the tree I threw it into. My jaw is clenched so tight, I doubt I will be able to form any words anyway.

Bandits. Damn it all. I was too late. They caught up with me. Mero is probably fighting for his life back at camp without even knowing why. I run as fast as my legs will carry me while Fiana dashes next to me in a mad frenzy.

As I run, my mind enters the zone of detachment that I felt just a few moments ago when I tried to kill Fiana. Whenever I am faced with a life-threatening situation, my emotions tend to dissipate, allowing instinct to take over my actions. This is one such situation. I'll be damned if I let either of my companions get hurt because of me.

As I run, the sounds of shouting and fighting begin to grow louder. I see the campfire up ahead; we are almost there. Fiana sprints ahead of me with a speed born of desperation. I see her hands begin to move in the pattern of a destructive spell. She can take care of herself; it's Mero I'm worried about. He may be an accomplished warrior, but he must be exhausted by now. If he is still alive, of course.

I see movement to my right and run towards it. A man with a suit of armor even shabbier than mine is digging through one of our knapsacks. He spots me running towards him and reaches for his sword, but it is too late. I drive my spear through his skull before he even has a chance to raise his blade. With a rage I did not know I was capable of feeling, I wrench my spear free of the man's head and run off in search of another bandit.

As I run, I notice something falling from the trees above me. I instinctively jump out of the way as a Nordic bandit drives his axe into the ground where I was standing just a moment ago. I turn and lunge, intending to spear the man quickly and be done with him, but he turns just in time to shield the blow with his breastplate. He lifts his heavy war axe and swings at me, but a few steps backward take me out of his range. I jab at him a few more times with my spear, hoping to keep him on his toes and tire him out. He tries to move in close enough to hit me with his axe, but I keep him at bay with my weapon.

In an aggressive move of desperation, the man rushes forward, axe swinging. I do not have enough time to bring my spear up for a stab; instead, I hold it in front of me to block his swinging axe. The blow of his axe hitting my spear is strong enough to make both of my hands instantly go numb, and I stumble backward. The Nord smiles wickedly and moves in for the kill.

He swings his axe high, intending to take my head off. With my hands momentarily useless, I drop to the ground and land a savage kick to the side of the man's knee. He yells in pain and, carried by his own momentum, falls forward onto the forest floor. As he tries to sit up, I scramble onto his back, pinning him to the ground. He swings his axe around uselessly while I wrench his head back at an unnatural angle. He struggles for a few moments more, then eventually goes limp.

I slowly climb off of his back and reach for my spear. As I do so, the man jumps up unexpectedly and turns to face me. I swear savagely; he was faking it. As he turns and swings his axe with all his might, I hold my arms up in desperation. His weapon makes contact with my bracer, and the protective piece of armor shatters. I watch in stupefied horror as the pieces of my bracer fall to the forest floor. I can hardly believe that that rusty piece of junk could block such a strong blow.

Without wasting any time, I drive my spear into the bandit's gut as he reels from the shock of not hacking my arm clean off as he clearly intended to. He drops the axe and reaches out to grab at my throat, but I continue to drive him backward. After a few moments of desperate struggling, the bandit falls forward, limp.

I pull my spear free of the man's girth just as a loud explosion lights up the sky behind me. I turn to see an enormous blaze of fire engulfing the surrounding forest, only to be doused a moment later by an unseen force. Fiana, I realize, although I didn't know she could summon such powerful spells.

Without a second thought, I scoop up the slain bandit's axe and run towards the direction of the blaze. On my way, I see two more men -- a Breton and a Redguard --running away like scolded children. I chase after them, determined not to let them get away. My blood begins to boil, and all the painful memories begin to flood back into my mind. I am a creature possessed. I have become an unfamiliar entity, intent only on killing and vengeance and death. The call of battle beckons to me. I can feel the unquenchable rage begin to build and boil, turning me into the hideous beast that I so desperately try not to unleash.

At this point, I really don't give a damn.

With a speed born of fury, I chase after the pair of fleeing bandits. They notice my pursuit and begin to run faster, but it is no use; I am already upon them. Hefting the axe in my right hand, I throw it like a tomahawk. It flies through the air gracefully, then lands firmly in the back of the Breton. The wretched bandit falls heavily to the forest floor and writhes in agony. As I pass by him, I drive my spear into his head to end his agony and continue my pursuit of the other man.

I can see that the bandit is tiring, but he continues to run on doggedly. I estimate the distance between us and prepare to throw my spear. I take a deep breath and let the projectile fly. Much to my dismay, the bandit weaves out of the way at the very last minute, though he probably did so unintentionally. The spear lands just at his feet, and he stumbles on it momentarily. As he regains his balance, I catch up to him and tackle him to the ground just as he approaches the edge of a hill.

The two of us tumble down the hill in a swirling whirlwind of fists, feet, and dirt. When our descent finally comes to a halt, he grabs a handful of sand and throws it in my eyes. Momentarily blinded, I release him and rub my eyes to clear them of the debris. The Redguard bandit tries to scramble away, but I lunge after him and grab him by the foot. He kicks at me savagely with the other foot, but I ignore it and drive my knee into his back. He thrashes desperately, trying to free himself from the weight on his back.

My hand closes around a rock, and I pick it up instinctively. Without another thought in my mind to distract me from my actions, I smash the man on the back of the head with the rock. He lays still for just a moment, then struggles again. I hit him with the rock again. On and on this process continues for God-knows-how-long. I continue to bash the man's head with the rock in my hand until he stops moving; then, I hit him a couple more times just for good measure.

When I finally realize what I am doing, I drop the rock and pant heavily. I am completely out of breath, although I hadn't noticed until now. I look at the dead man in front of me and the gory hole that takes up the entire back side of his head. For the first time in my life, I don't know what to feel. All I can feel is a complete lack of emotion. This certainly isn't the first time I've killed someone, and it won't be the last. I've killed people in far more gruesome ways than this. Why, then, do I feel this way now? I just can't explain it. It's as if all of my emotions have suddenly gone numb.

Slowly, carefully, I stand up and make my way back up the hill in a dreamlike state. Nothing I see seems real. The charred trees, the discarded weapons, the dead bodies; it's as if I'm looking at all of it from a completely different world. I wander around like this for a while until I am sure I've lost my mind. The funny thing is that I don't seem to care too much about the loss. It just happens sometimes, I guess. Nothing to be worried about.

What is wrong with me?

I make my way back to the camp; what's left of it, that is. Charred corpses scatter the area, obviously the result of Fiana's fire storm. I step over them gingerly and ignore the nauseating smell. I hold my spear loosely in my hand, letting it drag along the ground and leave a thin trail in the dirt. But that's okay; it doesn't matter. Nothing matters any more.

There's Fiana. She's kneeling over Mero, who is laying on the ground peacefully. Fiana is crying, of course. I guess that would only be the natural thing to do when one loses a friend, but for some reason, I just can't bring myself to feel sad. Maybe it's because I just met him whereas Fiana has known him for a long time, but for some reason, Mero's death just doesn't sadden me. I know that it should. After all, his death is all my fault. The bandits were after me, and Mero just happened to get in the way of me and them. Surely that is reason enough to feel sad, right?

And yet, somehow, my eyes remain dry even as Fiana cries her heart out. I don't know if she has noticed that I am standing right behind her. I guess it doesn't matter. My presence would probably just upset her even more. She and Mero were good friends -- maybe even a bit more than that -- and she probably wants some time alone so she can mourn his passing. I can understand that, even if I cannot summon the appropriate emotions to sympathize with her. Yes, I should just leave. That would be best for both of us.

I turn from the sight and begin walking away. Something inside me tells me that I should stay, that I should try to comfort Fiana, that I should at least help her bury Mero's body. But I just ignore it. That voice is wrong, and I won't listen to it. My mind is made up. There is no place for me here, so the only alternative would be to move on and find someplace else to go.

I knew this was going to happen. Good God, I knew this was going to happen. Why didn't I listen to my instincts? Was is weakness that drove me to this? Compassion? Loneliness? Pride? I don't know, and I don't feel like thinking about it right now.

I continue to walk onward, not caring where I go. I know I'll eventually decide on a destination, but for now, I think I'll just go where the wind takes me. Such is my nature; such is my fate; such is my curse.

Such is my life, the life of a rogue.


End file.
